When Your Role Model is a Cat
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Instinct leads to stupidity which leads to disaster of embarassing proportions. Caryl Crack!; oneshot.


**_Okay, guys...this is what happens when you TUMBLR._**

**_This is total crack, be warned-set sometime between "Walk With Me" and "Killer Within"._**

**_I honestly don't know what to say about this except...enjoy?_**

**_I disclaim as always!_**

* * *

_He remembers the old tabby that decided to call their shed 'home' when he was about ten. He remembers how big it was, like a wildcat his daddy would probably try to shoot just to get it stuffed and hung up on their wall._

_He remembers the grey and black fur, the stripes running across its legs, the funny "M"-shaped markings on its forehead._

_He remembers it couldn't meow worth shit. All that came out was a scraggy growl when it tried to vocalize itself._

_But what he remembers most, what he would hold onto for years to come about that old, giant pain-in-the-ass tabby cat, was the presents._

_Their shed was full of rats. Their yard was full of squirrels. He never got to see one up close til' the damn cat started bringing them to the back porch every afternoon. He'd come home from school and find them laying there, the cat back to prowling the weeds near the shed._

_They were always dead, barely bleeding, and at first he thought it was just __gross__. But then he watched the cat prance up to the porch one evening and set the squirrel down at his feet, peer up at him and release one of those guttural, shitty-attempt meows, and he suddenly understood:_

_It was like the damn thing was begging to be petted._

_It was like he was saying, "I brought you this thing. Now __love me__."_

_And damned if Daryl didn't love that cat til' the day it died._

* * *

It didn't see him, but he saw it.

The little fucker was nibbling away and he was _right_ there, right on top of it, crossbow at the ready and every muscle in his body suddenly on fire.

It had come in through the fence with a nut in its mouth, climbed up on a post and was chowing down, and he just happened to be in the tower just above it, taking watch while the others took a break from moving bodies.

_That's right, just focus on yer damn acorn, rat…._

He had it in his sight, the tiny chest centered in his scope and he sneered.

_I'm gonna kill you, ya little bastard._

_I'm gonna kill you and give you to Carol and maybe she'll smile at me…_

He froze.

Faltered with the bow. Accidentally fired and missed the damn thing by several feet. His arrow drove home into the dirt by the fence, the squirrel so startled by the noise it dropped the nut and flew down the post, skittering away and out of the prison yard altogether.

_What. The. Fuck._

He'd killed squirrels by the dozens during winter, brought them to the group to roast up and keep everyone as healthy as possible. But never had he thought to bring one to someone as a goddamn _gift_, like a fucking cat trying to get a chin-scatch as reward for being a good hunter—

_Shit._

"Daryl?" He dropped the bow to the floor of the lookout at the sound of her voice.

The loud clatter of his weapon falling made him stumble back and trip on it.

"DAMMIT!"

"Daryl? You okay?"

Reaching down to grab the bow and avoid stepping on the damn thing and breaking it, he steadied himself just in time to look down and see Carol standing by the fence, peering up at him with a fretful brow.

"Daryl?"

His face flushed like someone dying of Walker-fever and he lost his ability to control his mouth. It opened without his consent and he shouted loud enough for everyone in the yard to hear,

"**I am _NOT_ you're fucking _cat_!"**

A piece of flesh clamped itself over his lips a second later.

Another second later, he realized it was his own hand.

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. FUCK!_

"I…_what_? Daryl, are you okay up there?"

Staring into the confused face of the woman he apparently was desperate enough to bring a dead squirrel to, with no rational response to her perfectly rational question to his completely_ irrational_ outburst, Daryl did the only thing he could think of.

He ducked.

Gripping the bow like it was made of magic and could transport him to a time before he even _saw_ the fucking squirrel, he slid down to his ass on the floor of the tower and heaved for breath.

Outside and just below, he could hear her call out to him again,

"Daryl? You're not makin' any sense now….I'm comin' up..."

"_NO!_"

Another clamp across his mouth.

He glared at his hand like it had a mind of its own and was betraying him.

Taking a deep breath he held the bow against his chest and raised his head above the guard-rail of the tower.

"I just…uh...need a minute."

"You sure you're okay?"

_Goddammit, woman…_

"Yeah. I just need a sec."

When he dared to meet her eyes again he found her grinning up at him. He recognized that look. She used it when she was getting ready to fuck with him.

"Whatcha been doin' up there?"

"_Nothin'! _Just give me a damn second and I'll be down!"

He saw her smile get wider, her eyebrows shoot up and a giggle rose into the air to meet his ears.

"Okay, okay…sorry I interrupted…"

"You didn't….I wasn't…."

_You got it all wrong, woman. I was trying to kill a squirrel to give to you as a present so you'd pet me. And then I missed the shot and dropped my bow and tripped on the goddamn thing and…_

"Okay, _fine_…yeah…I'll be down shortly."

The giggles below became an outright laugh and he wanted to die a thousand deaths at the awful, beautiful sound.

"Okay, I'll just…I'll tell Rick you'll be along soon…"

And with a series of snorts and giggles, Carol wandered away from the tower, blissfully unaware of just how ridiculous his situation really was.

Daryl lowered himself back down to the floor, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.

If he didn't head down soon, it wouldn't be much longer before Rick himself came calling for him.

His grip on the bow was still tight enough to be painful. His face was burning hot and the image of the old tabby cat flashed before his eyes.

He decided he'd fucking wait.


End file.
